


Perceptions of Reality

by Lefaym



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-06
Updated: 2008-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:46:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefaym/pseuds/Lefaym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A weary Albus Dumbledore comforts a distraught Remus Lupin after Sirius Black is taken to Azkaban.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perceptions of Reality

_November 2, 1981_

The optimism of the previous day had been shattered. The November fog that shrouded even the highest towers of the castle emanated a chill reminiscent of Dementors, and only the occasional soft musical trill from Fawkes provided comfort.

Albus Dumbledore rested his forehead in his left hand for a moment, allowing himself a rare moment of weakness. Soon he would have to attend to the endless stream of owls that kept arriving. No doubt they requested his immediate return to London, to give evidence, to give advice, and to stand in judgement on those who had surrendered upon the fall of their master. For now though, he allowed his weariness to show.

He sat upright as he heard someone walking up the stairs to his office, and was not surprised when Minerva McGonagall entered the room. Grief and shock was still evident in her pale face, and new lines had appeared around her eyes; all the great losses of the past week had been students of her own house. When she spoke, however, her voice was steady, and professional.

"Remus Lupin is here, Albus," she reported. "He insists upon speaking with you. I told him you were busy, and offered my own ear as his former head of house, but he insists that it must be you."

"Did he give you any indication as to what he wishes to discuss with me?"

She sighed. "He hardly seemed rational. He just said that you were the only one who knew about it... but... I had the impression that he was not referring to his work with the Order."

"He has lost much in the last week, Minerva. I believe I know why he is here," said Dumbledore heavily. In response to her quizzical look, however, he merely said, "I will speak with him in ten minutes. Please, allow me a moment to gather my thoughts."

"Of course," she replied. "Ten minutes then."

As she left the office, Dumbledore turned to the cabinet that held his Pensieve, and used his wand to draw a silvery-grey memory from his temple. Bending down, he observed a scene that had occurred five years ago.

Dumbledore saw himself walking briskly along a corridor near the entrance to the Gryffindor tower, late at night. Turning a corner, the back of Sirius Black came into view. He was leaning into an alcove where he had his arms around someone else, who was hidden in the shadows. Snogging-- that was the word that the students used for it. Although he was rather amused, Dumbledore knew that as headmaster he would have to interrupt their embrace.

"Good evening, Mr. Black," he said pleasantly, as a light appeared at the tip of his wand.

Sirius jumped backwards, as though he had received an electric shock. His robes were askew, as were the robes of the red-faced boy emerging from the shadows. Dumbledore saw himself raise his eyebrows, but when he spoke, his voice was light and his tone betrayed no undue surprise.

"Mr Lupin, I am aware that tonight was your night to patrol the corridors, but I am not sure that this was quite what Professor McGonagall had in mind when she assigned you to duty."

Remus opened his mouth, but no sound came out, though his face grew ever redder. The boy looked helplessly to Sirius, who, for once, was equally lost for words. Dumbledore saw himself adopt a stern expression that was undermined, somewhat, by the twinkling in his eyes.

Not caring to embarrass the boys further, Dumbledore's former self did not wait for a response, but said, "Of course, your patrol duties ended an hour ago, so I suggest that you and Mr. Black make your way back to your dormitory before I remember that detention is the standard punishment for students caught wandering the corridors after hours."

Remus still seemed too shocked to move, but Sirius managed to recover himself. Grabbing the other boy by the hand, he grinned, and said, "Yes, sir." Daringly, he winked at the headmaster, and pulled a stunned Remus towards the corridor that housed the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Dumbledore remembered thinking that he'd been too easy on them-- late night forays should at least result in the deduction of house points-- but he'd been rather pleased, really. With James Potter's attention diverted by his budding relationship with Lily Evans, and Sirius distracted by Remus, he thought that they might at last stop harassing that Snape boy.

Dumbledore pulled himself away from the memory just as he heard another set of footsteps ascend his stairs. He returned to his desk, and, looking around at the portraits that adorned his office, he said quietly, "I think it best if you remain silent while my guest is here."

***  
***

Remus knew that only Dumbledore could make it right, only Dumbledore could explain how this terrible mistake had occurred. Of course he could make it right, he wouldn't sit so calmly behind that desk if he couldn't make it right.

"Please sit down, Remus," said the old man, and Remus took the seat across the desk from Dumbledore, and looked pleadingly at the wizard across the sheen of silver instruments that rested on the tabletop. He continued, "I think I can guess much of what is bothering you. None of us expected Sirius to turn on his dearest friends."

For a moment, Remus appeared just as lost for words as he had been in the corridor that late night. His mouth worked silently, before finally he managed a word that was half a sob.

"Please." Remus took a moment to compose himself, and managed to speak again. "Please, Dumbledore, help me make it right."

Dumbledore sighed, "You know I cannot do that, Remus. Even I cannot change the past-- nor can I change the hearts of those who have betrayed us."

"I don't-- I can't-- I don't believe--" Remus's voice cracked and he found suddenly that he could not continue, lest the howl building inside his chest find a way to escape.

"It is difficult," said Dumbledore simply. "But when we allow our desires to interfere with our perception of reality... the result can only be tragedy. I urge you not to make such a mistake yourself."

To Remus's eyes, a faint shadow appeared to pass across Dumbledore's face. "Surely," said Remus, his voice still strained, "surely, he should at least get a trial. I heard that Barty Crouch just sent him off to Azkaban... the Dementors..."

"Normally, I would agree with you. Even the worst criminal deserves a trial, and not even the worst deserves Dementors. But Remus, I performed the Fidelius Charm myself and made Sirius Secret Keeper for James and Lily. There were dozens of Muggle witnesses who saw him murder poor Peter Pettigrew and twelve other Muggles besides. I fail to see how there could be any defence... and the ministry must put all its resources into tracking down the many Death Eaters who remain at large."

"But what if he is innocent? If there is some other explanation? We could find evidence, there must be some way..."

The sadness in Dumbledore's face grew ever more palpable. "Remus... if I thought there was any chance... but you must not allow your desire to see him as a good man to blind you from... the atrocities... of which he has proved himself capable."

"But--" Remus felt his face crumble, and he could no longer hold back the tears. "I loved-- I love him."

Dumbledore bowed his head, and for a moment, Remus thought that he could see his own pain reflected in the older man's face.

"I know what it is," said Dumbledore quietly, "to invest one's faith, and one's love, in the wrong person."

"When--?" Remus began to ask, looking up, but Dumbledore dismissed the question with a small gesture.

"It doesn't matter. But I had thought, Remus, that you had been wiser... I mean to say, it was my understanding that you had seen little of Sirius in the past months?"

"We fought," said Remus his voice barely more than a whisper. "We fought, and I left, found my own place. But I never, I never suspected-- I thought that maybe if we took some time apart--" He could not continue.

"There is no shame in your grief, Remus, but you must not let it consume you. You must move on... however difficult it may be." Dumbledore's voice was as kind as it was sad.

"You don't understand!" Remus sobbed. "It's my fault! If I hadn't left, if I'd stayed with him, he wouldn't have--"

"Enough!" For the first time, there was an edge to Dumbledore's voice, enough that Remus looked up, and swallowed his sobs. When Dumbledore spoke again, however, his voice full of sympathy. "Too many of us spend our lives buried by our own guilt. Those who are innocent should not take up the same burden."

"I thought-- I thought you would find some way..."

"I am sorry, Remus. I can offer nothing but an old man's sympathy."

Remus nodded, and there was an awkward silence as he struggled with internal conflict. "Well, I guess... I should be going now." He stood, and made his way towards the staircase.

"Remus," said Dumbledore suddenly.

He turned back towards the headmaster.

"The school could always use another talented teacher, and we have positions open for next year in both Muggle Studies and Defence--"

"No, Dumbledore, I couldn't. You know what I am, the parents of all the students would have a fit if they found out!"

"That would not concern me," replied Dumbledore. "I have recently employed a new Potions master quite capable of brewing the recently discovered Wolfsbane Potion; it would be quite safe for you to teach here, and you would not need to visit the Shrieking Shack as in your student days."

"No, Dumbledore... I am not up to it... not now."

"Very well," he replied. "But Remus... should you ever change your mind... should you ever, perhaps, need a job that will allow you to take your mind off Sirius, and all that is past..."

Remus nodded. "Thanks... If I ever need it... I'll let you know. See you later Dumbledore."

"Farewell then," said Dumbledore. "For now."

Remus raised his hand in acknowledgement, and descended the staircase without another word.

***  
***

After Remus left, Dumbledore returned to the Pensieve, and extracted another, far older, memory. For the briefest of moments, the image of a laughing boy with golden curls resolved itself on the surface of the silver-grey substance. Dumbledore sighed, and turned away to face the awaiting owls and ministry missives, all asking for comfort that he could not provide.


End file.
